X'Special for Christmas
by MisterMitty
Summary: Little Boo has a special project. But first, Uncle Norman had to find it.
1. Chapter 1

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Every machine on one end of the DLO was running at the same time. The one that went, 'clack-ity-clack-ity', the one that went 'bump-racket-bump-racket', and Norman's favorite, the one that went 'floosh-bap' every few seconds and then spit out a wrapped bundle of Pre-Sorted Bulk, postage paid. Between one 'floosh-bap' and the next, Norman looked up, tipped his head to one side to listen intently. Then he grinned and shouted, "Incoming!" to Oliver on the other side of the room.

"What do you hear?" Oliver shouted back.

"The clicking heels of small shoes moving in the hurried pace of someone of short stature."

Norman Dorman was the only person that Oliver knew who could manage three machines at the same time and still hear the nuances of a busy Post Office outside the door of the DLO. A week before Christmas no less. Then Oliver heard the hurried steps for himself just a few seconds before a five year old blonde hurricane named Boo pushed the swinging doors open, bursting into their workspace.

"Is it here?" she shouted with excitement.

Oliver grinned and dropped to one knee and opened his arms, knowing that the hurricane was tracking on his position. Hurricane Boo hit with giggles and locked her arms around daddy's neck. He stood and twirled them both. Twice. Once extra because it was Christmas.

"Is it here?" Boo asked. More sedately this time.

"You'll have to ask Uncle Norman," Oliver said, winking at his wife.

Shane had followed the diminutive storm into the room but was taking a more dignifies approach to Oliver's desk. One hand covering her laughter as reached her husband and joined the embrace.

Norman shut down the 'floosh-bap' machine and stepped to the tall rack of "Recovered-Sort', specifically the wide slot marked 'Alaska'. The package he removed was eight inches by six inches and three inches deep, wrapped in brown craft paper. Carrying it gently, he set it on Oliver's desk in front of Boo. Her eyes got very round and she made an 'O' with her mouth.

"Wow," she said. "Were'd you find it?"

"I found it at Orcas Island, Washington of all places. The ferry from Anchorage dropped it there by mistake."

Shane was frowning as she studied the address information handwritten on the wrapping. "That says it came from Wainright, Alaska. Is there a Post Office there?"

"Trading Post. But they do a goodly volume this time of year. It is the northern most Post Office of the United States. Just eight point six miles from the North Pole."

Shane picked up the package and turned it over, then over again. "Who mailed it?"

"Unknown," Norman said. "I called the Trading Post. The Post Mistress there said that someone dropped it off but no one saw who it was."

"No, no," Shane was beginning to look flustered. "Look at the address. 'Boo c/o Denver Dead Letter Office'. I want to know who is sending a package to my daughter."

Oliver was making 'cluck-clucking' noises under his breath. "Norman, why don't you just open it. Please."

Norman found one of his sharpest knives and carefully slit the packing tape where it held the wrapping shut. Then peeled the brown paper away. The aromas of clove, peppermint and very faintly of pine flooded into the room. Inside was a very old cigar box. White Owl, with a faded picture of a smiling Santa on the top. Shane was the one who reached to lift the lid open, moving her hand slowly. Suspiciously.

"Wow!" Boo laughed when the box was open. "She is as pretty as I thought she would be."


	2. Chapter 2

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Oliver was looking over Boo's shoulder as she peered into the box and was surprised. First of all, he had expected the inside of the box to be dark. It wasn't. It was filled with light. Light that came from a small Angel lying on a pad of red velvet. "How odd," he said.

"What do you mean?" Shane asked, sidling sideways into his shoulder to get a look. "Oh! I see. It must be battery powered."

"She is not an IT," Boo said sharply. "She is an Angel and she is a she. Like me."

"What an understatement," Oliver whispered to Shane.

The Angel was five inches tall and wore a long, billowy white gown that covered her feet. She held a gold star in front of her, a star with a single bright ruby at its center. A tiara with five small diamonds was perched above a mane of long black hair that flowed over her shoulders and behind her back. Her wings were like the wings of a dove, outstretched, ready to lift the Angel into the air. A silver halo floated above the tiara.

"Must be held there with magnets," Shane said. "Because I don't see any connections of any kind. It just floats there. How curious."

"There is a card with her," Oliver said. He retrieved the card and laid it on the inside of the cigar box lid. "There is a name and then 'The Christmas Angel'. That must be her title."

"What's the name?" Shane asked.

Oliver stared at the letters on the card, 'Aoife'. "I am not sure I can pronounce this. I think it is A - a, oh bother. I think its old Irish."

"Her name is pronounced 'Ee-fa'," Boo said proudly. "It is Gate'lick and it means, 'beautiful, radiant or joyful. Or my name is not O'Toole."

Norman laughed and had to turn away.

"And you know so much about Angels because you have so much experience with them?" Shane asked. "Is that what you are saying Miss O'Toole?"

This time Oliver laughed with Norman.

"Yes," Boo insisted. "I know 'cause I'm 'spose to." She said the last as if that were the only explanation necessary.

"Why was she sent to you? Is she a gift?" Oliver asked.

"Sort of. She is a temp'rary gift. A ex-special project for me to take care of." Then she gave her daddy a hopeful look. "But you gots' to help with part."

"Alright," Oliver said, managing to stifle laughter and keep a straight face.

Shane nudged Oliver's shoulder with her own. "I think it's time to get these little angels home."

Boo let Norman carefully repack the cigar box. Then she held it with both hands as it if were made of eggshells. Neither Oliver nor Shane noticed that the box was still glowing softly inside the wrapping paper.

The walk to the parking lot was only two blocks. Oliver and Shane walked hand in hand, Boo walked just in front of their joined hands, cradling the wrapped box carefully. The met eleven people in those two blocks. Worn out people with shoulders stooped by a rough year and a face filled with sadness. Some couldn't even manage a strong step but moved forward by shuffling along the sidewalk as if their feet were too heavy to lift. Yet every one of them reacted as they approached the couple with the young girl. Each of them stared at the wrapped box the girl carried. Then each of them smiled warmly, squared their shoulders, and started taking stronger steps.

"Merry Christmas," they all said.

Little Boo replied happily to each one of them, "Merry Christmas to you too." Then she would smile and the box she carried would glow a bit brighter.

"Was that strange?" Shane whispered to Oliver.

"What? I didn't notice anything."

Boo looked up at her mother without stopping. "It's not strange, mom. It's the Christmas Angel. It's her job and those people can't helps theirself. They has to smile."

The drive home was a short one. As Oliver guided the car into their driveway, a sudden gust of wind blew passed the house and turned the yard into a flurry. When the snow settled back to the ground, not one flake landed on the walk or the steps.

"Thank you," Boo whispered to the box. "Now daddy won't have to shovel."


	3. Chapter 3

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While Boo waited in the living-room, Oliver carried the tree in from the garage. A tree the three of them had chosen the day before, a six foot noble pine. He and Shane stood it upright and then fit it into its stand. Then they moved it to the place of honor, the corner of the living room away from the fireplace. When Oliver had returned a few moments later, it was with the first of three boxes of decorations.

Boo stepped in front of him defiantly, barring him from the tree. "Not this year," she said. "The tree has to remain neked and bare for the project."

Oliver set the box against the garage door, wondering exactly what his daughter was up to. When he returned to the living room, Boo had unwrapped the cigar box and was gently holding the Angel. Using the palms of both hands, she lifted it up to her father. "You gots' to help because I am not tall."

"What?" he asked and heard Shane giggle. He knew what she wanted, he just wanted to hear her say it.

"She has to go on top. That's her x'special purpose."

"Yes ma'am," Oliver smiled and took the Angel from her hands. He turned it slowly, studying its construction. He was about to say something about the lack of hooks or clips when Boo cleared her throat to move him along. Something she had heard her mother do from time to time. "Ok, ok," he said and lifted the Angel to the peak of the tree. Curiously, the Angel sat right where he placed her. Watching the Angel lest she fall while he walked to the couch and sat beside Shane.

"What?" she asked, seeing the look on his face.

"I don't know how it is staying up there," he whispered softly so Boo wouldn't hear.

"Maybe it is some Christmas magic," she whispered back, then giggled again as she leaned into him. "Like when Santa stops for cookies." She made a gasping sound, and went to the kitchen. When she returned she set a plate of Christmas cookies on the coffee table. "Thanks for reminding me," she whispered.

Boo was pacing back and forth in front of the tree, studying both tree and Angel intently. She paused long enough to wrinkle her nose, then sniff, then sniff again before turning with a grin. Cookie in hand, she went back to perusing the tree. One more cookie later, she turned and grinned at her dad. "Perfect," she said, then crawled onto the end of the couch.

Sometime later, ages to a child but only minutes to an adult, Boo was curled on the couch, head on a pillow with her eyes closed. A Hallmark Christmas movie was playing on television, watched by Oliver and Shane. Using only the muscle of a single eyelid, Boo peeked at them. Difficult for most five year olds but she had watched mama do it many times and had prack-ticed lots until she could to it too. The one eye swiveled up to look at the Angel. Unseen by either Oliver or Shane, Aoife the Angel opened one tiny eye and stared back at Boo. The little girl very subtly gave her head a tiny shake to say, "Not yet." The Angel closed the eye when Boo did.

It was a very long wait, ages to a child, but eventually Oliver and Shane relaxed. Boo watched until she was sure they were both sleeping peacefully. Moving carefully so as to not disturb her parents, she slipped off the couch and stood in front of the tree. After looking over her shoulder once to make sure she was the only one awake, she looked up at the Angel and whispered, "Now."

The Angel opened both eyes and grinned at Boo. Then the soft glow that she'd had while in the cigar box intensified. Growing brighter and brighter until the room was filled with light. Light flooded from the Angel's gown and cascaded down the length of the tree, collecting into pools and sheets. In some places the light coalesced into shiny streamers of tinsel. In other places it became blinking lights of different colors. Some of the flood formed orbs and became glittering balls that collected the colored lights and painted them against the ceiling and walls.

Boo was clapping, dancing and laughing. "The mostest boo'tiful tree ever. Seriously ever. Dad!" she cried out. "Mom! Look at the x'special project."

"Remember," The Angel cautioned the little girl. "Before next year, you must find someone who needs a special Christmas and pay it forward. Your mission is to pass the Christmas Angel to someone else."


	4. Chapter 4

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Shane returned to the living room carrying two mugs of steaming hot chocolate. "I see you finished the decorations and got the lights going," she said after setting the mugs on the coffee-table.

"I did,"Oliver said, lifting one of the mugs to his lips.

Shane leaned over and gently kissed her sleeping daughter's forehead. "Is she dreaming?" she asked, watching the grin that flashed across Boo's face.

"She is," Oliver whispered and gently pulled Boo's blanket up to snuggle her in. "It must be a good one too. She mumbled something about Norman and the North Pole and an Irish angel. She has said 'The Angel' three times and Christmas once. Don't know what's in her head, but she seems to be enjoying it."

Aoife the Christmas Angel looked down from the top of the noble pine that held three boxes of decorations and smiled at the sleeping child. "Merry Christmas to all," she whispered. Then she winked and closed her eyes.


End file.
